


Don't Rock the Boat

by pulltab (Dekka)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Secret Relationships, Steve and Tony don't know that Peter is spiderman, Superfamily, Superfamily (Marvel), character pov changes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:40:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dekka/pseuds/pulltab
Summary: Peter didn't mean for his family to find out like this.Aka: Tony Stark is good at being in the wrong place, at the wrong time.





	Don't Rock the Boat

Tony Stark is no stranger to bad situations. He’s always had a certain knack for ending up in the wrong place, at the wrong time. But married life has done him well. With Steve around, there seems to be less ‘wrong’ places and even less ‘wrong’ times for him to stumble blindly into. 

So, when a lazy Sunday night leaves the billionaire standing in the doorway to their teenage son’s room, trying to pick his jaw up off the ground, he can’t be blamed for the way his mind stutters uselessly to a stop, no longer accustomed to dealing with these situations on the fly. 

“Steve,” he yells over his shoulder, his voice cracking pathetically. He can barely believe his eyes as he turns his attention back into the room, trying- and failing- to blink away the sight of the merc with a mouth standing no less than three feet away from his son. 

“Dad-,” Peter starts, begging, but Tony can only shoot him a wide-eyed look, motioning dramatically at Wade’s frozen, equally wide-eyed form. It shuts Peter up pretty fast. 

Steve stumbling into Tony’s back, halting from a frantic run, does nothing to amend the situation. 

“Wilson?” He asks dumbly. 

Tony can feel his husband’s gaze skipping from him, to their son, to the merc, in a panicked back and forth bobble. His own brain only comes online as he realizes Steve’s mind is just as snapped by the situation, maybe even worse than his own was. 

The only useful idea that comes to him is to get his son as far away from danger as possible. 

Taking Peter’s arm isn't easy, especially as Tony reaches for him blindly, refusing to take his eyes off the armed and suited-up mercenary, but his grip settles eventually and locks down with a strength only ever seen used by a parent in desperation. 

“Look alive, Babe, any time,” he chirps Steve, finally getting Peter safely behind his own frame. Behind his back, he can feel Peter struggling to take a front row seat to the situation, but his death-grip leaves his son firmly out of Wilson’s line of sight. 

Somewhere deep, deep down, he can hear Peter arguing, but every sense of his not trained on the merc is focused intently on keeping his son back, pressing them further to the back wall and making sure the biggest and closest threat to Wilson is Steve, who’s finally got with the program, his own defensive stance directed towards the motionless merc. 

***

Bucky enters the situation armed and ready for anything, but still stutters to a stop at the triangle of tension in the room, unprepared for _this_. 

Steve, he knows, can hold his own, and as much as he’d like to pull his friend away from the known and legendary kill-for-hire, Peter’s wide, shocked eyes force him into action, his steps careful as his own eyes never leave the merc as he gets closer and closer to getting the kid behind him and out the door. Tony at least does his part, sidestepping until Bucky can get a hand around the boy, putting him behind his own built frame. 

Of everyone in the room, Bucky knows most of all how quickly guys like Wilson can pull a gun and find their target. He’s not taking any chances. He’d give his life for the kid’s in a heartbeat. 

By the time he’s forced Peter to the door, using his own body as a human shield, Natasha is waiting there with open arms, Clint at her side with an arrow already trained at their intruder. 

He doesn’t wait to watch Peter be taken safely down the hall; Natasha knows her job, and her job is never left unfinished. Instead, he steps back into the room and goes for Tony. As much as his relationship with the inventor is built on shaky grounds, especially after the whole “civil war” thing, he knows that Steve loves this man with whole heart, and that pushes him back into position- his body firmly in-between the merc and the billionaire now. 

Tony doesn’t take the protective detail well, but Bucky cant find the mind to care as he strong-arms the other man into the hall. 

“Your son needs you,” he hisses when Tony tries to push his way back into the room. Surrender almost comes with ease, but Tony is stubborn. 

****

“Auntie Nat, please,” Peter begs, digging his heels into the ground and fighting against her hold. There’s nothing he can do that wouldn’t give away his super strength. 

“Peter, we don’t have time.” She pushes him back against the wall, halting them as she checks around the next corner, before continuing their jog to the panic room. 

This can only go on for so long. 

With his mind made, Peter drops his weight, surprising his aunt enough that her grip on him loosens as he falls to the floor. 

“Peter?” She asks worriedly, her hands instantly searching him for injury. He catches them before they can skirt his sides for a bullet wound or broken ribs. It’s now or never. He can barely meet her eyes, ashamed of having so many secrets. 

“Auntie, please don’t freak out, but I’m dating Wade. That’s why he was in my room. He’s not trying to hurt me, we’re not in danger.” 

The hall is deafeningly silent for too long.

Peter forces himself to look up at her questioning expression. 

“Are you mad?” He asks, hating how small he sounds and feels, sitting uselessly on the floor as his family works in panic and his boyfriend is alone in the midst of the chaos. 

“Peter, of course not,” she soothes, taking a second to cup his face to assure he makes eye contact with her to see her honesty. Under her care he takes his first real breath, falling into her embrace. 

When they pull apart her pinched expression is hidden, but not enough for him to not notice it. 

“Auntie?” He asks. 

She hushes him, gently helping him to his feet, leading him at a slower pace down the hall. As they move, she talks softly. “Whatever he drugged you with, or whatever head injury he gave you, all of that will fade once we get you somewhere safe.”

Peter is tired. He feels helpless. 

Against his will, a pained sound escapes from his throat with an embarrassing rush of tears. 

Aunt Nat only glances down at him for a second, but that second is enough. She slows their pace further, gathering Peter closer to her side. “Bruce is already waiting with Helen in the panic room, you’re going to be okay. Your Dads, Bucky, and Clint have this under control.” 

Peter’s head shakes, his lip bitten raw under stress. 

Ahead of them, Jarvis opens the door to the lab, revealing Bruce and Helen anxiously awaiting them. 

The idea hits Peter like a punch to the chest, knocking his breath out of him. He can only push away the hands grabbing him, trying to lead him to a waiting med bed. 

“Why do you think Jarvis or Friday didn't alert you guys?” He asks. Even to his own ears he sounds desperate, like a man working on his last limb. “Look at the doors, at the room; Jarvis is working, so is Friday, and if I was in danger there’d be alarms.” He motions frantically at the silence above them as if that’s proof enough. 

“Young Sir is right, I am fully functioning,” Jarvis adds, allowing Peter to sigh in relief, slumping back against Bruce. 

“He’s not wrong,” his uncle points out to Helen and Natasha. Aunt Nat, usually unshakable, has her face twisted in disbelief, while Helen simply raises her hands in surrender, quietly turning to pack away her emergency equipment. 

“You,” Natasha points threateningly at Peter, “have a lot of explaining to do.” He can only solemnly nod, ready to accept whatever punishment comes his way. 

“Someone should probably tell the others before this guy loses his head,” Bruce says, trying to force Peter to sit and take a breath. 

At his words, Natasha glares Bruce into submission. 

“I’ll get Tony,” he winces in surrender. 

She nods with a sickeningly sweet smile, waving him goodbye. 

It’s only once his Uncle leaves the room that Peter realizes he’s been left with his very unreadable Aunt. The departure of Bruce feels like a death sentence, the room plunged into dangerous, unpredictable silence. 

“Wait!” Peter yells after his Uncle, bolting for the door. 

His Aunt is quicker, catching him by the back of his hoodie. 

“I’m not done with you, Sweetheart.” Her smile feels like a threat. Peter gulps. 

***

Clint did not sign up for this shit. He’s got a family for God’s sake. There are better things he could be doing on a Sunday night than holding down Deadpool with a knee to the merc’s back. 

Even still, he’s not quick to release the merc as Bruce tells him to stand down. 

“Come again?” He asks. Under him, Deadpool squirms, turning his head just enough so that Clint can see one wide-white eye of the mask and half of an exaggerated frown. 

“We worked so well together, Bird-brain, cant you listen to the nice man?” 

The voice only angers him more. For weeks he worked on a mission with the mercenary just months ago, and was surprised by the changes he saw in the other man, and knowing he took a job, endangering Clint’s honorary nephew right under his nose, is killing him. The anger at himself for not noticing may be misplaced, but it’s not undeserved. 

“Peter will explain everything, just let him go,” Bruce tries again. 

“You’re can’t be serious,” Clint argues, looking to Tony and Steve for confirmation. 

Tony is dead-set, but Steve looks reluctant. 

“When we came in, Peter was trying to tell us that this was a misunderstanding,” Steve admits. At his side Tony scoffs, taking a step away from his husband. “This man is dangerous. Peter is nineteen, he has no idea what Wilson brings in his wake,” he argues. Clint nods his agreement, settling more weight on Deadpool just to make him sweat. 

“Sir if I may interject,” Jarvis starts, but Tony turns a glare at the ceiling. “Where the fuck were you J? I called for the armor multiple times.” 

His question settles with an amount of uncertainty around the room, everyone well aware of the trust they put in Tony’s A.I. system. 

When Jarvis responds, it’s not what anyone was expecting. “My protocol states that I put Peter’s safety and best interest above all orders and actions. I determined that bringing the suit, and therefore a weapon, into this situation would not be the best course of action as Peter was not under threat until you showed up, Sir.” 

Tony is steaming in silence at the response, his body closed off and face carefully blank. At his side, Steve dares to put a calming hand on his husband’s back, and to everyone’s surprise, Stark releases a shaky breath, seeming to accept what his A.I. is telling him. 

“I think we need to have a conversation with our son,” he determines, looking like the words are physically hurting him.

Steve doesn’t seem to be taking the news much better, his face frozen in a permanent half-pressed, obviously pained smile. It’s starting to scare Clint a little. 

“To the living room!” Deadpool quips, to the amusement of absolutely no one present. 

“I guess, yeah, to the living room,” Tony echos, obviously thrown off his game. 

Clint can only force Deadpool to his feet, praying the night doesn’t end in a blood bath, but knowing only time will tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed the writer :)


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